


Chance Encounters of the Demonic Kind

by RandyWrites



Series: AU: Magic Foster Family [1]
Category: Bombshells (Comics), DCU (Comics), Justice League Dark (Comics), Teen Titans - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen, Heaven Help Me Im Back On My Magic Fam Bullshit, Magic Family, Magicblazer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-06-26 04:51:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15656133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandyWrites/pseuds/RandyWrites
Summary: When taking a next step in their relationship, Constantine and Zatanna certainly weren't expecting demon adoption to be on the table. But after accidentally summoning (or possibly saving?) a young empath straight from Hell itself, how could they turn away a young mystic in need?As they navigate possible parenthood, and prophecies beyond their control, will the Mistress of Magic and World-Famous Hellblazer be able to keep their relationship intact? Or will this budding Magical Family fall apart before it even has a chance to grow?(Based heavily off of DC Bombshells, the First, chronologically-speaking, of this series.)





	1. First Contact

Constantine's recovery from the blast was quick. These kinds of theatrics were par for the course when requesting an audience with a being from one of the Inner Circles of Hell, and this summoning ritual was but the latest in a series of attempts to recover Astra's soul from that realm. The inspiration for which struck less than a month ago, and John had become a bit obsessed with the endeavor. Having chased a rumor that one of Hell's up-and-coming demons was causing yet another schism in their convoluted politics, John was holding tight to the hope that in the chaos he'd be able to gain favor, through whatever means necessary, to finally right one of his longest-running wrongs.

But with all of the horrors he knew to expect, nothing surprised him more than to see the form of a small girl take shape as the smoke began to thin. It was unconventional by most demons' standards, to say the least. And John was all the more caught off-guard by the first thing she said to him.

"You're not my father," she said. Well, more so accused, he thought, not bothering to hide his frown at the statement.

"And you're not the demon I was trying to summon," he shot back between fits of coughing, the smoke and incense was still thick in the room. "But life is full of disappointment, luv."

Constantine watched her carefully for a moment. She was obviously very young. Much, much younger than Astra was… and younger still than Chas' daughter probably would be now. (How long had it been since they'd had a decent chat, anyway?) The white robes she wore were tattered at the edges, burned as if the journey she had endured by her accidental summons had been a rough one. But not dire, no, she seemed relatively unharmed.

Her black hair was cut in a bob style and extremely uneven. He noted how choppy it looked in the back as she turned her head to take in the room she was in, one of many libraries that John had made use of over the years, this particular one being the result of his hoarding one too many arcane books and leaving them in his New York apartment. (After all, demons were easier to trick if you flattered them with some hospitality. And if the meeting went south, he'd at least have a home territory advantage.) The front of her hair was just long enough to stay tucked securely behind her ears, keeping it out of her face.

And Lord above, her cherubic face… Her eyes were piercing and blue, as sharp as freshly cut sapphires, flashing something dangerous for the briefest of seconds as she turned her gaze fully to him. It made John think twice for a moment. Maybe he had succeeded in summoning a demon after all? Because there was certainly _something_ there just beneath the surface. And it was _red_ and _angry_.

"And just… who might you be, then?"

"Nu-uh. You're a stranger," she said, shaking her head back and forth slowly at him, her eyes flickering something more violet now, "I'm not telling you my name."

"Well then, what _may_ I call you, luv?" he bargained. If there was something John tried to have in spades, it was his charm and skills of persuasion. A magic all on its own, really. And one that often came in more handy than not.

The girl looked him over a moment longer, as if gauging him and his trustworthiness. The longer those deep blue eyes stared into John's own pale ones, the more hypnotic they seemed, especially as they began to even out into a rich navy. John felt calm, a sense of ease washing over him.

"Raven," she said finally, finding _something_ that evidently made him worthy enough. Her voice snapped him back to reality, out of the trance that her eyes had set him in. "Call me Raven."

This little bird, whether a demon or a girl John couldn't quite tell, certainly seemed to have a trick or two up her sleeve.

"Alright then, Miss Raven," he rose from where he had been knocked off his feet, and offered the girl his hand. Making sure he kicked the salt away from the binding circle she was in (not that he was absolutely certain by now that it'd have held her, at this point).

The girl hesitated a few seconds before carefully slipping her small hand into his own, mildly calloused ones. He noted how lightly she touched his skin, the sharp intake of breath as she made contact and a tear began welling in her eye.

He helped her up onto her feet and led her out of the room as she sniffed, breaking the hold of his hand by gently letting go till he let hers slip away.

"Why don't we see about sending you on your way, hmm?" he smiled for her as she followed close behind, straight to the living space.

They'd get this sorted one way or another.

~*~*~*~*~

"-And you're feeding her… _pop-tarts_?" Zatanna rubbed the sides of her temple in frustration. For the past few years that she had known him, Constantine seemed to have a knack for getting into trouble, and more often than not, she had felt some sense of duty to help him out of it.

Especially now that they had _finally_ agreed to become a more… _exclusive_ item.

But when he called her with some nonsense about accidentally summoning a kid with some kind of next-level demonic connections, in his _own home_? This was a new one, even for him.

And to think she _almost_ chose to move in with him.

The sorceress turned her gaze past her lover, down the hall, to where she could see the girl sitting in his living room. She sat cross-legged in front of John's coffee table, nibbling away at the aforementioned confections while reading through one of the many tomes John had lying around. Zatanna figured most people would deem it an innocent enough scene in and of itself, but there was a very clear presence that she could feel emanating from the girl. It was ancient, powerful, and most of all, _evil_.

"Well, I couldn't exactly give her whiskey and cigs, could I?"

"Beside the point," she scolded, rolling her eyes at him and lowering her voice as she continued, "You've got a kid, _maybe_ a _demon_ , on your hands with no way to send her back where she belongs- Scratch that, with no idea where she comes from-"

The girl interrupted the sorceress with a single word, and the adults turned to her in confusion.

"What was that, luv?" John asked, turning away from Zatanna and taking the short walk down the hall to hear her better.

"Azarath. That's where I'm from." Damn, the kid's ears were _good_.

"Fascinating. Never heard of it," John sunk into the couch across from the girl, pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly. "Don't suppose you have, Zee?"

Zatanna hung back at the entrance way to the living space. The girl's aura was still very strong. But now that she was closer, Zee felt something else. Something familiar.

She could only describe it as an anxious calm, like the feeling she'd get in her stomach just before a show. It was something to be prepared for and easily suppressed.

Or what _would_ be easily suppressed. But the feeling _wasn't_ going away.

In fact, Zatanna could only pinpoint one reason why something so trivial would be so hard to push aside. And a few things clicked in that moment.

The first she could be sure of: although this girl clearly had some _presence_ looming within her, she was still a very young girl. Likely with some innocence left regardless of where she had been summoned from. Secondly, though the girl seemed to be above all else nonplussed about the situation, she was clearly suppressing her true feelings. And these were feelings that were being passed along to Zatanna at the moment. Which led to the only logical conclusion: this girl was an empath.

Before she could dwell too much on this discovery, Zee realized she was lingering. And despite every instinct in her body screaming at her to run, she took the seat beside John on the couch and answered his question.

"I might've read about it once _somewhere_ , but it's not ringing any bells."

The girl seemed to ignore them and turned the book around on the table, sliding it across to them. Pointing towards a section about ' _the hierarchy of reality_ ', her brow furrowed slightly as she made another statement.

"Your book is a wrong. It doesn't show the twelve planes. And it doesn't talk about pocket dimensions."

John gave Zatanna a look as they turned towards each other. "She's been on about this kind of thing the whole time she's been here," he explained.

Clueless as always when it came to kids.

"Raven, right?" Zee sighed, resigned to playing delegator. "Why don't you tell us more about Azarath? Maybe we-"

"I can't go back." -Well, she certainly had a knack for seeing _exactly_ where the conversation was going.- "It's one of the rules."

"Uh-huh, well," Zatanna thought for a moment before settling on the obvious question. Heaven help her, she'd get _somewhere_ with this girl before the day was through. "What about your parents? I'm sure they must miss you terribly."

Raven shut the book with a sharp snap, making the two older mystics jump at the sound, and turned her face away from the sorceress. "No. I don't think they do."

Coughing on the drink he had taken, John pounded his chest as Zatanna gave him a glare. "And what makes you think that, Raven?"

The girl picked at the spine on the book, right where the pages were bound, her eyes focused solely on her fingers. She shrugged after a few seconds of fiddling. "Arella and Azar told me Father can't love. So he probably doesn't miss me. Azar also said love was dangerous. She and Arella would fight over that kind of stuff though, so I don't really know…" She let the thought trail off, pushing the book aside once more and taking a bite out of her last remaining pop-tart.

Zatanna could only stare at her in silence.

What was there to really _say_ to something _like that_?

"I'm glad you pulled me out of the Circle," she turned to Constantine suddenly after finishing the treat. "They were being really boring, and mean."

"Oh anytime, luv," John said, waving a hand dismissively.

"You're not going to send me back there, are you?"

"What, back to Hell?" John scowled. "Don't be ridiculous." Zatanna could hear the undercurrent in his tone. ' _I've already damned one girl too many_ ,' it said.

"You promise?" She made full eye contact with him then, and Zatanna found herself pulled in by hues her eyes took on. A flash of something in royal purple, before fading back into navy. She probably didn't even _realize_ the level of influence she had.

John shook his head a moment, as if trying not to fall under it, but remained affirmative. "Raven, no one will be sending you off to Hell. Least of all me."

Reaching for John's hand, Zee was unsure of the choice before them. So for now, she chose a middle ground. Though she had suspicion that it might turn into something else entirely, given time.

"We're more than willing to help you with whatever you need now, Raven," she promised, "But let's start at the beginning. Please, tell us all about Azarath."

 


	2. Second Breakfast

When looking back, Raven recalled that those first few days as _tense_ , to say the least.

Constantine and Zatanna seemed to drill her nearly every second for information about where she was from and how she'd gotten here. Tracing and retracing her misadventure from the dimension of her birth, to Hell, and finally to John's apartment.

It all seemed so straight-forward, and yet so convoluted as well.

And to be perfectly honest, most of the events were already fading away from memory.

But to be fair. She was only five years old. An hour was a lifetime ago. A day like an eternity.

She remembered studying in the temple. Sitting and reading the same line over and over about some historical event that she could care less about. And then the ground seemed to open up around her.

She'd seen some of the acolytes and monks make a dash for her. Azar herself reaching for her hand, and then...

A free fall.

Blackness.

A distinct change of smell from incense to sulfur.

She didn't _want_ to recall anything after that. It was much too vivid.

She said as much to Zatanna and Constantine, when they pressed her. Eventually, shutting down before she could let the experience overwhelm her again. And though she could feel that they were none to pleased, and weren't afraid to _feel_ as such while around her, they never _said_ anything to that affect.

Which confused the girl all the more about this strange new world she found herself in.

On Azarath it had been just the opposite, with Azar and the acolytes suppressing their true feelings, and always carefully verbalizing instead. A very measured explanation, but always thorough, and _almost_ never in a manner that made her feel talked down to. Though there were plenty of acolytes who still treated her like the child that she was.

But it was strange and oh-so-marvelous to have this chance to _feel_ and to _guess_ what those around her felt. To finally put her knowledge of these strange and complex emotions to the test.

A test, of which she knew failure would not be an acceptable option.

And she couldn't be sure if that thrilled her. Or frightened her.

~*~*~*~*~

As soon as it became clear that sending the girl back was going to be a more involved endeavor than previously thought, Zatanna had insisted on temporarily moving into Constantine's apartment.

On the grounds that Raven still had an aura of _evil_ surrounding her, of course, and that they knew next to _nothing_ about the girl.

"She could kill you in your sleep John, and _then_ where will we be?" she whispered to him that night, after setting up a bed for the girl on the couch.

"You saw how she picked up that damn spider I was about to squash, and carried it to the balcony? The li'l bird _literally_ couldn't hurt a fly."

The sorceress could already see how the girl's innocence and childish curiosity endeared her to him. And as cautious as she tried to be for the both of them, she had to admit to slipping more than a few times herself.

Hell, it'd started as soon as that following morning, when she was the first to arise and make breakfast. A simple matter of charming some of the utensils to prepare the food, while she fixed the coffee herself.

Some things simply tasted better when made without magic, after all. _Coffee_ was one of those things.

Zee figured the girl had likely awoken to either the smell of the bacon or the maple syrup, as she stumbled sleepily into the kitchen just after their aromas mingled deliciously in the air around them.

Her eyes had lit up at the sight of all of the utensils and appliances seemingly moving of their own accord. And Zatanna chuckled lightly at the look of wonder on her face.

"How do you do that?" she asked, sapphire eyes trailing after a spatula scrambling eggs in a skillet, moving to the waffle iron opening for a fork to fish out the breakfast staple. They stopped to thoroughly inspect how the used dishes piled and stacked themselves into the sink for clean-up later, a flutter of magic lingering on their handles a half-second before disappearing.

"Don't tell us you've never seen a little magic before, luv," Constantine yawned as he took the pot of coffee from Zatanna, placing a gentle kiss against her temple and giving her a murmur of _thanks_ as she handed him a mug.

"I've seen magic," she pouted. A hint of indignation? And here Zatanna was beginning to the think the girl a robot. "I want to know how _you_ do _that_." She purposefully pointed between the sorceress and the remaining dishes that piled themselves with food.

"You ever heard that phrase about magicians and revealing secrets?" the demonologist said as he fished out his cigarette and lighter. Zatanna snatched the cig from his mouth before he even had the chance to light it, giving him a glare as she did so.

"My magic is based off a certain kind of incantation, since you've asked," the sorceress shared, remembering to keep the explanation as simple as possible. The girl may be a student of magic, but she was still very young. It was hard to gauge how much she understood by the brief way they'd covered the topic yesterday.

"I say a word or phrase backwards, and it can happen." Zatanna's eyes lit up as she remembered one of her favorite shows from early in her career, when she'd first started out with children's birthday gigs. "Do you know what a palindrome is, Raven?"

"That's when the word is the same backwards as forwards, right?" The girl pulled up the seat across from the sorceress, and leaned her elbows in interest on the table. "Like, ' _level_ ' or ' _madam_ '?"

"I woulda gone with ' _mum_ ' n ' _racecar_ '. Look 't the brain on this bird." Zee gently poked Constantine in the ribs. She gave him a wink as he rubbed the spot, and he nodded subtly in understanding.

Taking one last sip from the mug, he walked carefully through the kitchen, rummaging for the right _props_ that Zatanna would need.

"Exactly, and it can be for phrases too! So, do you know what ' _pots_ ' is spelled backwards?"

The girl thought it over, carefully mouthing as she tried spelling the word out in her head. " _Stop_ ," she concluded with a self-satisfied smirk.

"Yes! Great! Those words form one of my favorite spells. Can you guess it?"

The demonologist tossed a smaller pot in hand into the air behind the girl, testing it's weight. Taking her question as the signal, he tossed it towards Zatanna, then the other. Zee's eyes widened at the movement, helpless to stop the brit.

" _Pots stop_!" Raven guessed, eyes flashing. The sorceress didn't even have time to form the words for herself.

But something happened at that moment that neither Zatanna nor Constantine could have predicted or prepared for.

The pots did indeed, miraculously stop.

Admittedly, John knew he could have held off on throwing the pots for a more obvious cue. But he never did have Zee's patience, nor her flair for showbiz. And he certainly wasn't going to start working on that with breakfast so close at hand.

That bacon smelled delicious, and Zee almost _never_ made him bacon, dammit!

But any thoughts of bacon and breakfast disappeared as his pots levitated, as if frozen in time, in the middle of his cramped kitchen.

"Bloody hell," Constantine ran his hand through his hair, as if to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks. "You ever get something like that at your shows, Zee?"

The magician sat there in shock, her mouth hanging open as she took in the sight. The girl fidgeted in her seat, switching nervous glances between the pots, John, and Zee.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, "I thought... I thought you were teaching me the... I wanted to do the spell." She rubbed at the hem of the shirt borrowed from John, big enough to fit as a nightgown on her tiny frame. "It... It wasn't my magic to use, was it? I'm sorry."

Zatanna shook her head at the girl, earning her a quizzical look. "It's fine, Raven. We're just... very surprised."

Surprised? Confused? Dumb-founded?

Was there really a word that could encapsulate every bit of pure shock that was running through their minds at the moment?

This five-year-old _demoness_ had just demonstrated purposeful magical intent beyond what a normal five-year-old should be able to do. Hell, it was beyond what many adult practitioners of the mystical arts were able to perform even with a few weeks' worth of training and study.

And all after a simplified explanation?

There was no telling what this girl could be capable of.

"I'd say we've stumbled onto a prodigy here, Zee. Wouldn't you agree?"

John took his mug from the counter and took another sip, and mulled over another thought in his head.

There was no telling how useful she could be.

The magician could practically see the gears turning in the blonde brit's head, the way he merely blinked as the pots crashed to the ground as he tapped them. The girl's intent with the spell waned as her concern with upsetting them grew. But John seemed only interested in packing the pots away and snatching a couple of filled plates for each of them. Finally pulling up a stool to join the girls at his tiny table.

An apartment meant for one was certainly starting to feel all too homey with three residents.

"How'd you like your waffles, luv? With jam, syrup, butter?"

The girl's nose wrinkled in confusion at the food placed in front of her. " _Waffles_?"

The pair of adults shared a look before before Constantine let out a short laugh. "You weren't joking, when you said Azarath was a whole 'nother world. Were you, luv?"

"Why would I joke about something like that?"

"Strictly rhetorical, darling. Give 'em a try with syrup first, then, yeah?" He poured the maple syrup over half for her, and pushed the jam to her after giving himself some. "Then see if this strikes your fancy."

They shared a laugh as the girl's face brightened at the first bite, and as she began nearly inhaling the breakfast before her.

Zatanna flicked her wrist and muttered a quick charm, firing up the waffle iron to make the girl seconds. And possibly thirds or fourths, with how eagerly she ate.

And in the meantime, they chatted idly about charms and spells. Experiments gone wrong, and surprises taking wonderful turns. And as much as the older sorcerers were afraid to admit, there was something very special about having such a wonderfully young and eager listener in their midst.

Especially one so seemingly untouched and unaffected by the cruel nature that their craft usually took hold. When, at that moment, they couldn't have been further from the truth.


	3. Third Strike

They mostly took turns, between teaching and interrogating the girl.

Interrogation may not have been the right word for it, however, since she was more than forthcoming about most of the things she could remember and understand about the place of her upbringing. And as much about herself as she understood it.

There was too much uncertainty, and too much that she seemed too young to have the words to adequately explain, however. The third day after running into another roundabout question and answering routine, Zatanna had had enough. She'd stalked out of the apartment only to return a few hours later with what John could only liken to the absolute worst kind of torture devices.

"I know you need a blood sample and DNA to test, but ya could've given a bloke some warning before bringin' so many damn needles into my flat."

"Make yourself useful and get her some cookies or something. God knows she's going to need a reward for putting up with all of this." The magician had turned her full attention to the girl coloring at the coffee table, voice low and calm as she succinctly explained what she was about to do to the girl.

It nearly broke Constantine's heart, hearing her cry of pain at the pinch of the needle. He couldn't be entirely sure if the tear that welled up in his own eye was from the girl projecting out her fear or from his own discomfort at the entire affair. He tried quelling those thoughts by focusing on the tea and biscuits he could bring to ease the girl's pain.

"You did great, Raven," Zee praised as she neatly labeled the sample with the girl's name. "This is going to help us figure out who and what you are, where you're from-"

"But I told you. About  _Azarath_ -"

"Yes, I know, sweetheart. You've done a really good job at answering our questions. But no one knows the answers to  _everything_ -"

"Azar did."

"But we're not Azar," the magician said as she firmly secured the tools, "And neither are you. So for people like us, when we have a question that can't quite be answered, we try some  _unconventional_  things."

"Answering  _magic_  with  _science_  ain't really all that  _unconventional._ Or as  _controversial_  as you think, luv," John muttered carelessly as he set the tea tray before them. Zatanna nearly burned a hole through his head with the heat of her glare as Raven fidgeted nervously, feeling her growing agitation with the occultist.

"Controversies aside, it's going to be well worth it, because  _this_  is going to hopefully answer a lot of questions that you, little blackbird, simply won't be able to answer on your own."

"Blackbird?"

"A nickname, pet," John gently reminded her as he set a few biscuits before her, "Because a raven is a black bird, you know."

She seemed to get lost in thought as she nibbled on the treats, her eyes swirling again between odd hues of indigo. Zatanna made an off-hand comment about returning later with the results, and John waved her out as she used his door as a gateway.

It fully dawned on John a few minutes later, that had been the first time Zee had referred to the little demoness so casually. He began to wonder if he'd missed any other signs of the magician's growing fondness for her over the past two days.

~*~*~*~

"She had family in Gotham," Zatanna announced as she unceremoniously threw a file on his coffee table. Evidently, Raven's results had brought back more than  _just_  a profile of her genetic makeup. "Her mother's name was  _Angela Roth_. Reported missing as a runaway case over eight years ago by the family. The last sighting that Bruce could pin down was at least six. He's been working this as part of his backlog of," she began finger-quoting for emphasis, which Constantine found himself smiling at, "' _Impossible Missing Persons Cases_ ' for a year or two now. Her parent's passed a year back, and an older sister, Raven's aunt? You'll never guess where she moved to."

"Don't tell me. Somewhere  _nice_  and  _sunny_  and the  _complete opposite_  of that gloomy hellscape?"

"I believe  _my_  favorite city qualifies, so yes."

"San Francisco, of-bloody-course... Well, that lines up well with where we thought the bird's age was, then. At just under six? And if mother and daughter both really were in a whole other world..." the supernatural detective sighed as his eyes scanned the pages. "Says here Roth had found  _associates_  in the  _Church of Blood_.. Don't tell me that's-"

"Sebastian Blood? Hard to tell. The cult is all too keen on hiding their leader's identity." Zatanna shook her head in disapproval as she continued, "But we both know  _coincidences_  in this line of work are rare."

"Involvement in Blood's Church. That'd definitely explain the demonic heritage bit," he mused as he thumbed over the page containing the girl's genetic profile. Just as they'd theorized, half-human, half... whatever the hell it was that made the lab results look like  _that_. Nearest the demonologist could remember, he'd never seen markers quite like this before. "But disappearing for half a decade? To some  _pocket dimension_? It's mental, Zee, even for our neck of the world."

"And it's our best lead so far. If we can find out exactly how Raven was... well, conceived, and what exactly she is- I mean, you've felt her energy, haven't you? She's just... so different from so many demons or devils we've met." There was a long pause as they both perused more pages, mulling over thoughts and theories in their own heads. John was the first to break it.

"What about this family of hers? Or what's left of it... You said she had an aunt?"

"Alice Williams," she sighed, "Married, one kid. Devout Catholic, converted from Judaism-"

"That might explain some things," John mumbled. Zatanna gave him a glare before she continued.

"Pretty mundane as far as I can tell. There's not exactly a perfect test for finding  _homo magi_ in DNA, obviously. Though we can't completely rule it out."

" _Obviously_... That gives us more time to focus on this cult angle, at least."

"But this also means an inevitable trip to Gotham, and to SF to see if we can pass her off safely to her family."

"And if they  _can't_  or  _won't_  take her?" Their eyes met as if the question were a challenge. Zatanna almost thought she saw genuine concern in John's pale blue eyes.

It was a tricky thing. Even in this new world that seemed all the more accepting of aliens and metahumans alike, to get most people to believe or to even simply  _accept_  the magic that surrounded them, seemed like asking the world of them. Much less to even entertain the  _idea_  that those close to them might have an affinity for it. It could be damn near impossible for some people to relinquish their hold on reality as they understood it. A reality that magic simply could never fully conform to.

As if reading his thoughts, Zatanna dismissed his question.

"We'll cross that bridge if or when we get to it. But there's no doubt in my mind that it's important for Raven to know, at the  _very_  least, she has family here. No matter how tenuous a relationship it might be." Zatanna narrowed her eyes then. "Speaking of,  _where is she_? It's too quiet here."

"Set her up with a few books in the study to keep her attention. And don't give me that look! It's all  _Dr. Seuss_  borrowed from the neighbors."

"You? Borrowing from your neighbors? Did they know they're not getting their books back when they  _lent_  them to you?"

"That's beside the point. If we're staying in Gotham for any extended stay, I must ask- yours or mine?" He carefully pushed himself from the couch, leaning over the table to stack the papers back into their file and sneaking another quick sip of his brandy before clearing their drinks away.

"I'd feel better, the easier it is for backup to arrive," Zee said before amending, "If we need it."

"Yours it is then," he nodded thoughtfully, "Don't suppose you mind gathering up Raven's things while I collect the li'l bugger?" Not that the girl had a great many things to collect.

He knocked carefully on the door to the study, knowing full well the demoness probably sensed his presence just outside of it. "Raven? We're going to take a trip, the three of us." He stopped just short as his heart melted at the sight before him.

Though Zatanna had helped her find a change of clothes out of the robes she'd arrived in, she'd kept her bright white cloak on every day like a security blanket. Now it was draped carefully over her sleeping form, as she slumped in a chair with an open copy of  _Cat in the Hat_  teetering on the edge of her lap. She rested her head on top of her arm, which was in turn leaning on one of the armrests. Constantine could hardly bear to disturb her, but knew she was probably already too deep in her slumber to even notice him.

He plucked the book from her lap, tucking it under his arm before picking the sleeping demoness up from the chair. She cooed softly as her head rested trustingly on his shoulder. And John felt a spike in his chest that he tried to quell just as soon as he'd recognized it.

Just what was it about kids that always seemed to get him like this, anyways?

He'd never given much thought to having any of his own, not very seriously at any rate. It seemed like such a selfish thing to inflict on someone, given how he'd either driven away most of the people in his life or had otherwise gotten them killed. Bringing children into that equation? Just another torture he'd rather live without.

No, the sooner they took care of this little demon- and he had to be extra sure to remind himself that this girl was at least _partly_ demon- the better off they'd all be. It'd only been three days. It'd likely only be a few more before they'd have this whole mess sorted.

They'll find out this connection her birth mother had to the Church of Blood. They'll figure out exactly to which house of Hell she may have belonged to. And from there, they might have a chance at helping her better understand her potential. Her potential, and how to protect both herself and others from it. With any luck, they could pass her on to her rightful family and finally wash their hands of this whole mess that John had brought them in.

As she wrapped a hand unconsciously around his shoulder, however, his resolve was only  _just_  starting to waver. And Constantine began to wonder if it may have been fate pulling some strings when he tried to summon a powerful demon from the depths of hell, only to fish out this absolute angel instead.

Stranger things have happened to him before, he supposed.


	4. Fourth Walls

Gotham wasn't her favorite city to stay in, if Zatanna was completely honest with herself. The unsavory nightlife, the crime that ran rampant in all parts and all levels of the city, the sheer  _filth_  of it all.

But her father's old shop on Bleake Island, and her ticket sales throughout various clubs, casinos, and theaters in the city, seemed to do well enough to warrant regular visits. Besides that, Gotham always provided an interesting adventure or two that she could share with someone over a dinner or some drinks.

The city wasn't all that bad. But it was by no means, her  _favorite_.

Which was why she completely understood the five year old's discomfort, when she awoke from her nap to find them in another new, unfamiliar environment.

"It's  _loud_  here," Raven muttered crankily while rubbing at her eyes. This puzzled the magician, because when compared to Constantine's New York apartment, and considering the time of day, Gotham was nearly a mausoleum. Even with one of the busiest GCPD stations a few blocks over, with the sound-proofing and charm casting she had placed around her apartment, the city was only a low din of life and energy around them.

"There's  _too much_ ," the girl explained, sensing Zatanna's confusion ahead of her asking, "Even through the walls. There's  _so... much_."

" _So much_  of what, luv? You'll hafta be a smidge more specific," John pressed as he fiddled with an unlit cigarette.

' _Go figure,_ ' Zee thought idly. They crossed the threshold not even an hour ago and he was already jonesing to feed his bad habit. The magician pointed him to the door.

The apartment wasnt quite a penthouse suite, considering how multileveled and uneven the building was. Shops like her own lined most of the base, while many of their keepers took up residence in the spaces above. A hotel was conjoined on one side and blended almost seamlessly with her own building's architecture. At some point in the past, the buildings had become connected together alongside the others around the block. Renovations and updates and so many other things that allowed the complexes and their tenants to merge together into an odd, niche community.

A world within a world, a community within a vast, sprawling city. And Zatanna was glad to be sitting near the top, with a two-tiered flat to show for it.

 _Near_  the top, being the operative phrase. The hotel ' _next door_ ' still had at least a couple of stories and suites to dwarf her own.

"Down the hall. The lowest roof access is the maintenance door, before the stairs. I'd prefer to keep  _this_  apartment  _smoke-free_ , if you'd be so kind," she reminded him.

"Happy to oblige," he smiled before tousling the girl's hair as he left. "Keep outta trouble till I get back, li'l bird."

She ran her hands through her hair immediately after his touch left it in disarray, and Zatanna snorted softly at the look of indignation on her face. A wrinkled up nose and glare at the occultist's retreating back. A face she'd seen one too many times on spurned partners of his, that looked positively hilarious for one so small.

"He's still the saddest one," she said decisively after the door shut behind him, "There's a lot of pain here, but he's the  _loudest_."

' _Cryptic and creepy,_ ' Zee noted, but she could understand enough to get the idea. That empathy of hers must be on high alert in a city like this, and Zee certainly couldn't fault her if she was in a sour mood after being awoken to such a thing.

"Let's see if we can quiet it all down," the magician mused. "I bet it comes easiest through the windows..."

Finding a knife suitable for carving the runes into the window frame was simple enough, the real work came in bringing the right symbols together to help keep out those negative energies that were so obviously bothering the girl. Zatanna, though a little rusty on her rune scripts, remembered enough symbols to do the trick for the time being. Though, there was a bit of trail and error at the start.

When she'd finished with the living room, the girl followed her hesitantly into the kitchen, where Zee set to work on the windows overlooking a picturesque breakfast nook. While there weren't many  _views_  in Gotham, she'd grown fond of this particular one, a perch that overlooked the canal with Panessa Studios standing tall just beyond it. Her father had had the privilege of filming in that same, now defunct, studio during his brief affairs with ' _Hollywood magic'_. It had been the perfect answer to balancing his stage act with short-lived film contracts, and while at the time Zatanna hadn't been  _thrilled_  by all of the extra hours he had to put into that work, she looked back on many of those memories with a special lens of nostalgia.

She found herself smiling wistfully at the memory, before a gentle voice broke her out of her reverie.

"This place makes you happy...  _and_  sad, doesn't it?" Raven observed, her brow furrowing in confusion, "The other place...  _News York_. It was noisy too. But this one is..."

" _Gotham..._  takes a lot of getting used to," Zatanna defended lightly. " _New_ York is strange in it's own right, and it's a lot of fun. But Gotham...  _Gotham_  is a bit more...  _intense_."

"Intense?" she repeated the word after the magician, and Zee was reminded to adjust her language for the young girl.

"Like that  _loudness_. Everything gets brighter,  _bigger_  here. It's not always  _better_. But it's-"

" _More_.  _Much_. It can be  _too_  much," she guessed with a pout forming on her lip. No, she definitely did  _not_  seem fond of that  _muchness_.

"Precisely," the sorceress confirmed as she finished carving the sigil into the window frame. She turned to the girl as she dusted off her handiwork. "How's that? Still feeling the city's energy outside?"

"It's... quieter now," she murmered. Zee almost thought she heard her voice take on a different tone. Something grateful, or relieved. As if the stress that was eating away at her had been taken away. And for the first time in days, the magician felt like she could breathe a little easier as well.

By the time that Constantine rejoined them, she was slowly finishing her work at the spare guest suite upstairs, temporarily rearranging it for the girl's use. Both by putting protection again on the windowsills and doorways, and by providing a suitable sleeping space. A new twin bed to replace the desk usually littered with maps and grimoires, more shelves to finally give some of those trinkets and trophies from various Gotham adventures a home. The more dangerous items placed well out of reach of curious young hands. Not that she could be absolutely sure that the girl  _wouldn't_  find a way to reach them.

The conman ran his fingertips over the grooves of the sigil in the door's frame, whistling appreciatively at the crude craftsmanship. Something that would help keep any occupants' emotions  _outside_  of her room. And something to trap any evil  _inside_ , should it  _need_  to be activated.

If magic had taught them anything, it was that there really was no such thing as being over-prepared.  _Especially_  when dealing with demons.

Always a tricky thing to remember, that this girl was supposed to be a  _demon_.

"Might have to go over these again m'self, but not too shabby," he paused as he smiled, "For a  _stage magician_ , ' _course_."

" _Bite me_ , John-"

"Why do you do that?" the girl asked, distracting the pair. "You talk like you're fighting. But... it doesn't  _feel_  like it.  _Why_  do you do that?" She repeated the question, almost more as a demand. Zatanna found herself crossing heer arms over her chest, ready to go on the defensive, before the occultist opend his mouth first.

"Why do we bicker like a couple of  _loons_?" John laughed, "I ask m'self that every day."

"That's actually a...  _complicated_  question, Raven...  _Just like this damn city,_ " Zatanna sighed the last bit under breath. Try as she might, the sorceress wasn't much one to explain the nuances of... whatever  _exactly_  she and Constantine had, to a  _five year old_. Even one that seemed predisposed to  _picking up_  on those nuances.

"We'll have to get back to you on that answer when we find it." He said it almost thoughtlessly. As the simplest of explanations, a careless evasion. If they were lucky, she'd forget her question long before either of them would have to seriously consider answering it.

After a quiet moment, her eyes shifting between the pair at his answer, she nodded thoughtfully. Satisfied, it seemed, at his apparent honesty and promise for an answer in the future.

A future, that Zatanna wasn't sure would ever come.

~*~*~*~*~

The city appeared to be built with a  _strangeness cliche_. That's what Constantine had learned about Gotham long before the Batman began to stalk the night. Long before the time of fear toxins and joker gas, before killer crocs lurked in its sewers and penguins wandered down Grand Avenue. Even before that, Gotham was strange enough to give New York a run for its money.

But it lacked a lot of the charm that the City of Dreams possessed. And for all intents and purposes, it lacked a lot of the same magic, too.

Which was why it made perfect sense, that on a night such as this, when he wanted to get a lead on this investigation into that strange little girl's mysterious origins, that it would be raining. A nasty, Gotham rain that poured down in sheets at a time, soaking anything unfortunate enough to wander onto the street right down to the bone.

John always had a sneaking suspicion even his trench coat had a bit of magic to it, but on a night like this, not even it was immune. Which was why, only a few block away from his destination, he decided to duck into a bar for a short reprieve. Just long enough for a smoke and to wait for a break in what should have been a short spring shower, but was quickly becoming a dark downpour.

The bar was quiet. A trio of regulars sat at the counter, a group of friends occupying a booth near the back, another lone patron occupying a seat on the furthest corner of the bar. Two blue collar workers, absorbed in their game of pool, hadn't even bothered looking up upon Constantine's entrance, which he was grateful for. Turning heads before going off to a site of interest never did bode well.

He took his seat near the entrance, ordered his gin and tonic, and waited patiently as the rain outside only seemed to pound harder with each passing minute.

He thought over the past few days between the burn of alcohol down his throat.

It was rather thoughtless, when he performed that conjuring- On a  _Sunday_  afternoon, no less- but it was his saving grace. Because Zee  _certainly_  wouldn't have come to his aid as fast as she did if it had been any earlier in the weekend. Even now, between all of this mess with the girl, the stage magician's concern for keeping her show schedules on track was becoming another source of stress between them.

They could stand to sort out a temporary babysitting schedule  _after_  Constantine investigated this former Church on his own first. It was hard enough tracking it down in the first place, and he certainly couldn't afford either of their auras disturbing the flow of energy in that space. Even now, a couple hours after he had left Zee's flat, he still felt their lingering echoes around him.

A magician and a demon. Both a bit too powerful for their own goods.

He smiled fondly as he took another drink.

They really were growing on him, though. More than he wanted to admit to himself. So instead, he thought on what he  _knew_  thus far.

What Zatanna had learned from her... tests and research thank for a certain man who fancied dressing as a bat, was that Angela Roth was a young runaway from Burnside. She allegedly made her way to Blüdhaven with the intended destination of Metropolis in her sights, and was, inexplicably, pulled back to Gotham.

Here, is where Constantine speculated it could have been after a run-in with the Church of Blood, which was known to be operating in and around the area at the time. Just as Angela had disappeared without a trace about five years ago, so too had Blood's cult quietly vanished from the radar.

What he had uncovered for himself, however, was that their last known base of operations was a center just outside of the Drescher District on Founder's Island. Though it hadn't seen much activity in recent years, it also hadn't been condemned or put up for auction, which likely meant it still held  _some_  secrets. Maybe not all of the secrets John was hoping to find. But certainly  _some_.

It was lucky, for Constantine, that he had his own office in Otisburg, not too far of a walk from the Church's location. He took a cab from Zee's place, gathered that research in his workspace, and picked out a few tools laying around the office in case trouble ran into him on his walk there.

One of those tools, unfortunately, was  _not_  an umbrella. Which meant, as the rain continued it's pitter-pattering against the bar's roof, that he would have to find some other shield against it, if he had a hope of making any significant headway on this lead.

He took one last drink, emptying the glass and leaving a generous tip behind. Always best to level out one's karma before diving head first into danger.

And just as he stepped out into the night, as the sparsely lit street began to come to life with the orange glow of ancient streetlamps, the rain finally let up. Just enough to be bearable once again.

John began a very quick pace, not wanting to tempt fate any further.

What he had failed to notice, as he turned the corner briskly, was that the lone patron at the bar, had followed him out.

~*~*~*~*~

"-and remind them that the Vegas run-through is  _impossible_  on that stage, Mikey. We're just going to have to do last year's fall act and hope no one notices." Raven watched as the magician sighed with annoyance, pinching the bridge of her nose as the air around her spiked with a red flare.

"Of course I'll be there for the matinee. I've just had some..." Her voice lowered as she glanced over to see Raven's stare. A swell of surprise dulled that red anger. She looked away quickly from Raven's gaze.

"I've just had some  _emergency babysitting_  to do... Yes, ' _one of those League things'_." She paused again to glance at Raven, who  _still_  hadn't torn her eyes from Zatanna. That was when she realized the girl appeared to be waiting patiently  _for her_. "Just... remind Sean not to  _trip_  on the lights... Love ya too, girl." She clapped her phone shut, sighing once more in annoyance as she ran a hand over her face.

Raven tapped the magician's shoulder, silently holding up a  _Yertle the Turtle_  book for the magician. It took her only a second to realize what the girl was asking.

"You want  _me_... to read this to you?" The girl nodded silently, taking her hand and leading her upstairs to the guest room.

"Listen, Raven, I'm sure John will be back by-"

"He won't make it back tonight," she said. A chill ran up the sorceress' spine. That self-assured tone, that casual climb into the bed, those patient indigo eyes that waited for the magician to take her seat, take the book, and start reading.

"How are you so sure?" She wordlessly zapped the book to rest upon the far side of the night stand as she sat on the bed, only for Raven to reach over for it again and try pushing the book into her hands. Zatanna crossed her arms, refusing to take the book, and giving her a pointed look.

" _Because_ ," she groaned in frustration, " _the book_  told me." She shoved it once more towards Zatanna's hands. "He wants you to read it to me, first. I could read the others. But this one won't  _let me_  read it." As if to prove her point, she gave a show of trying to open the cover, going to so far as to hold the opposite sides with each hand, being unsuccessful at prying it open with sheer force alone. When she gave up with a huff of indignation, she gave the book over to the sorceress, pleased when she finally took it into her hands.

Zatanna's brow furrowed as she ran her fingers over the cover, she could feel familiar traces of John's work upon the book. A simple hex, but one that reminded Zee of childproofed bottles of medicine. Something that  _young_  mages weren't meant to break.

She opened the book, feeling a low thrum of glee that emanated from the empath, and began reading.

Lucky for her, Raven wasn't the kind of child too concerned over the  _pictures_  that a children's book contained, as she seemed completely mesmerized by Zatanna's voice and the flow of rhyme as it rolled off her tongue.

Which was all the better, because the further that she progressed through  _Yertle_   _and the other tales_ , the more concerning that the images got.

She could see John's journey with each turn of the page, a kind of  _security_  system he must have placed over himself before he left.

One that evidently had been tripped, by an odd figure that seemed to follow him as he left a bar, and got closer to his destination.

One that creeped much too close as he wandered decrepit, abandoned halls.

(And here she was, berating herself for letting him go alone in the first place.)

Raven had long ago fallen asleep before  _Yertle_  was even halfway through, but Zee was completely entranced by the tales now. Or rather, the tale that the images were weaving. She was alarmed, however, when she began hitting empty, white pages.

She'd caught up with where he was at now. And she  _certainly_  didn't like seeing how close he inevitably was getting to danger.

" _TEG EM OT NHOJ_."

The book clattered noisily to the floor, only a second after she had uttered the spell. Raven turned over in the bed, alone in the room with dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> been awhile for this one, hasn't it?  
> feel free to follow me over on tumblr @dyketectivecomics. gonna try for more consistent updates for all on-going fics, but who knows when that'll be for this one? (real talk: not me haha)  
> feel free to kudos, but /comments/ certainly give me more incentive to want to come back to this one sooner than others~ jsyk...


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